


Bakewell Tarts RULE Come On Y'Know

by Savageandwise



Series: Love in the Time of Corona [11]
Category: Music RPF, Oasis (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Gallaghercest | Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher Incest, M/M, Voicemail, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:02:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28947849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: Liam calls Noel to talk tarts and leaves a message on his voicemail.
Relationships: Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher
Series: Love in the Time of Corona [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747696
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Bakewell Tarts RULE Come On Y'Know

**Author's Note:**

> I mean. This tweet was too cool not to embroider upon...  
> It's good to be working on this again!

March 17th, 2020, 23:14

It's me. Reckon you know that. I mean you can hear it's me, right? Anyhow. I'm not drunk. If that's what you want to know. I mean, you know. Two lagers that's barely anything, innit? Who knows with you these days. I heard you're on the red wine. Red fucking wine, Noel. Well, fair enough. Nothing against wine. Booze is booze, right? On second thought. You're going to have to bear with me aren't you, Noel? Because you're just going to delete this anyway so I might as well say whatever I want, like. It's not like you're fucking listening, is it? Maybe it's four lagers. And some vodka. Cos what else is there to do in self isolation, right? Fuck all. You're the fucking same only you're sipping it from a crystal wine glass and pretending you're all cultured. Like you ain't that same lad born and raised in Longsight. Like a Bakewell tart wasn't the high point of a Sunday afternoon instead of fucking mousse au chocolat with gold leaf or whatever the fuck you eat now. Yeah. Bakewell tarts. You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you?

Bakewell tarts, yeah? That's what I'm calling about. Fucking biblical. I've been dreaming of them fuckers for a whole fucking week. That's what happens in isolation, man. You start fantasising about baked goods like there's no tomorrow. The sugary...what's it? The frosting. Creamy and sweet, like. You lick it first so it melts a bit in your mouth. And then the crumbly buttery crust. And then the jam part and the almond part. You know, that perfect mix, sort of, dig it out with your tongue so there's a sort of shell that remains and...and...and then the cherry. That's the best part. You never liked that fucking cherry, man, did you? You'd pick it off first thing. Only now I got to thinking about it...now that I rightly remember. I think you just said you hated that fucking cherry because I loved it. You know what I mean? 

March 17th, 2020, 23:17:

Sorry. Me again. Fucking answer machine thing. Right. What was I...the cherry. Yeah. You'd pick it off and stick it right in your fucking gob, suck that sugary...cherry sugar off. And there's me moaning about let me have it cos your just gonna spit it out anyway, aren't you, you contrary fuck? And you're making me beg for it sorta, rolling it round in your mouth and then you slide it back outta your fucking mouth and you say: that's minging, that. You have it. Like your fucking taste buds are more developed than mine and you can't be bothered but you reckon I don't know any better cos I'm an ignorant bastard. I mean, you know, I suppose it were a bit pathetic of me to eat it anyway. But what's the difference anyway. I mean what's a little spit between brothers.

Here's what I think. You wanted me to have it. But you never said you wanted me to have it because you know it's me favourite and I'm your brother and you love me. And that's what I think. 

I mean where am I going to get a Bakewell tart now in the middle of the fucking night? I could go to Tescos in the morning, I suppose. But it wouldn't be the same, would it? Without you slinging your cherry at me fucking head. That's all I've got. Call me back. Ah, fuck it you won't. But I hope I've got you fucking starving for Bakewell tarts now, like. I'll be giving you fucking wet dreams about almonds and fucking cherry jam. Ha!


End file.
